Humanity & Incarceration Project
advocating for the elderly
the facts:
If New York State’s prisons were a country, the average life expectancy of its incarcerated people—age 58—would rank it among the bottom 10 in the world. Each additional year in prison takes two years off a person’s life expectancy.
72% of incarcerated people aged 50+ have a chronic health condition vs. 31% of non-incarcerated people. Largely due to healthcare costs, it is two to four times more expensive to imprison a person over 55.
Fewer than 2 percent of people 55+ who served prison time for violent crimes return to prison for committing new crimes.
Almost all incarcerated people over age 55 have already served 15+ years. Many are already parole-eligible, yet face repeated denials based solely on the one thing they can never change, namely their crime of conviction.
our mission
The Humanity & Incarceration Project has a simple purpose: to provide a place for elderly people in prison to share their personal stories. Why should you learn about these vulnerable human beings? My hope is that doing so will inspire compassion, and compassion will motivate you to help these elders with some much-needed advocacy.
You may decide to support the Release Aging People in Prison/RAPP Campaign. The activists behind this grassroots initiative are working to push through the passage of a bill before the New York State Senate mandating that anyone age 55 and older in a New York prison be eligible for a parole hearing after they’ve served at least 15 years of their sentence. This proposed legislation would include people who are serving life sentences.
People like me.
My name is Joseph Striplin and I currently reside in Sing Sing Correctional Facility where I am serving a Life Without Parole sentence.
I’m not old, even though I have been in prison for nearly 30 years, but I created the Humanity & Incarceration Project because elders have always helped me and I owe a debt. My great grandmother, Carmen Blanca Navedo, who I called mom, raised me until I was 9, when she passed away. Her son Gilbert “Tío Gil” Martinez, my favorite uncle (actually, great uncle), used to tell me stories from when he was in the military. Even the older guys in the streets looked out for me.
In prison the “old timers” looked out for me too. One incarcerated individual, Dino Caroselli, threw a birthday party for me when I turned 25. (My own father never did anything like that.) He and some of the other elders made sure I got educated, took part in enrichment programs, and stayed out of trouble. One old timer named Mr. Smalls, who died of COVID in prison when he was almost 80, was responsible for helping me earn my legal research certificate.
In prison the older guys also taught me how to defend myself, how to be a man and respect people. They taught me to love music. Being around them is a reason I never lost my sense of empathy. And that’s why I want to do something for the elders. The Humanity & Incarceration Project makes all the sense in the world to me.
You could, and should, get to know these people. Their stories may vary, but they all have one thing in common: They need advocates. They need you.
